Nations
by Skeren Dreamera
Summary: AU. Caught in the tangle of Galetha's court politics, King Sephiroth is never going to be left in peace with the men of his harem. Instead, the constant interference leads him to making some choices he never would otherwise, but is that for the best?
1. Amethyst

"Dun nuh nuh, nuh na. Dun nuh nuh, nuh na. Dun dun da, dun dala, nuh na~ya." The soft lilting tune was nearly quiet, haunting, timed perfectly with the twist of blades through the air. The last note was voiced as he came down out of a high arc, a turn that brought blade around from shoulder down to knees in a flash of silver. His blade-tip rested on the ground far out to the side, with his slender, emerald bangled arm facing palm down with blade in hand.

The ending pose was a kneel, head bowed, long hair hiding his face as a gesture of respect. The dark blue and blood red of the silk paneling of his top was fanned out, the open long vest just a dark splash of color against pale, barely tanned skin. The silk hid none of the muscles of his body, and by that same coin hid none of the softness. A solitary claw caged amethyst rested against his chest, low on the golden rope of chain. It had been bestowed on him when he'd accepted this life.

That was the extent of the adornments, but it was enough for the barefooted dancer with his live steel, something none of the others were allowed in the king's presence. He knew it, and their lord master knew it. Lifting his head just enough that the shorter dark strands were out of the way, he met the feline green, waiting and patient for some signal that he was permitted to rise, to speak, to do anything other than what he'd already done.

"I've been told by my advisers that I shouldn't let you dance for me." He watched the man push to his feet, dark velvets and silks hiding the true figure and making their leader look so much softer than he was. He knew the silver haired man wasn't weak, and the muscles that lay under the cloth, but their allies didn't. He'd sat at his feet for enough conferences to know that few were perceptive enough to catch the trick. "That I shouldn't keep such an obviously favored pet that some other lord might try and kidnap for a ransom they say would be above your worth."

He watched the man come down the steps of the dais to the open area, lifting his head into the palm that was rested against his hair. He didn't speak, having learned early that the man sometimes paused, but that wasn't meaning that it was his turn to speak. He just liked to pace his words, that was all. He didn't lift his blades, aware of how fortunate he was to even be allowed to touch live steel in the same room, let alone while the man was in striking range of him and unarmed.

"But then I've be depriving myself of one of my most beautiful possessions. The very idea of giving up one of my gems is... foolish at best, isn't it?" He let his eyes flutter half shut as the elegant fingers, callused though few ever knew that, tipped his chin up, revealing his violet eyes fully to the searching gaze. "I don't keep unloyal slaves. And I know that any of you would tell me if one of your number did not hold me highest in their heart." Petting now, which felt wonderful, leaving him lidded eyed. "Wouldn't you my sweet one?"

Now was his turn. Now he could speak. "I would. I know they would be sent away, but you're good to us. Fair. There isn't better." He shivered and turned his head, just a little to nuzzle the palm. "I wouldn't take freedom over serving you. Ever."

He smiled, one of those rare rare smiles that let him know that had been the right answer, the good answer. "I know. That is why you're one of my lovely gems. They don't understand how I could have any slaves willing to die for me, live for me, let alone four of you. They scoff the notion of a prince under my hand, the idea of a prized warrior setting down his weapons. They think my beauties aren't here by their own choice, but here you are, given more than adequate time to kill me and be on your way."

He closed his eyes then, turning his face into the touch. "I would never kill you my liege. I would never even try."

"I know. In all things, that I do know." Another stroke of the fingers, and then his lord walked away, the whisper of clothes brushing him by before he opened his eyes. The closing of a door far behind him signaled that he could rise to his feet.

From there, he went to return to the others on silent feet. It was their place to keep the advisors from causing their lord unrest, and they weren't to slack in those unknown duties.


	2. Diamond

He never went to the council meetings. He wasn't permitted to sit in on the grand tactical conferences. The war room wasn't a place he was allowed to go. He was kept strictly away from anything that spoke of politics and persuasion. The art of war had been pulled beyond even the touch of his fingertips with the choices that he had made to bring his life to what it was and he knew that it was a legacy he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

That didn't honestly matter however.

Hand pressed against the smooth stone to the side of the winter frosted window, he let his gray blue eyes go unfocused as he listened, ignoring the chill seeping into his bones as he stood in place. His white sleeves were wide, fallen back to his wrist on the hand near his face even as the other hid his fingers, emerald graced ring resting on his middle finger amid white gold just to the side of his vision. He'd stared at that once, when he'd first gotten it, but it was much easier to visualize what he was being told if he didn't have something quite so concrete to look on. It was so much easier to use the fields and valleys beyond the high stronghold window to piece things together once he realized how it needed to be done.

"Jaenkester was adamant that there would be an attack needed on the southern border, a three lined assault with middle cavalry and fleet troops in flank at east and west of the city, archers on the last line back in a final barrage. They seemed to have been using the west map and-"

The description cut off as he raised his other hand. He felt the thumbnail sized black diamond shift in place against his forehead as he looked to the one speaking to him. The white gold chain circlet did so little to keep it in its proper place. Dismissing the familiar irritant, he let a dry smile cross his face. The violet-eyed man was the one who could go all the places where he could not. He wasn't raised to have ever understood them, though his intelligence lent him to noticing the details, remembering things that might be important later. Zack memorized, and then he shared what he had seen, what had been said with he, the tactician. It was his role to make sense of it and leave the plans where their lord could access them. Careful notations on scrolls without marks could easily be brushed away as little other than restive script. There was no misunderstanding as to the true source of the guidance, but their lord didn't wish to lose them, and as such, he would not reveal that it was not himself who came to such conclusions. Or perhaps he did and he was fooling himself to think he was as brilliant as the man… in either case, that was of little relevance to the matter at hand, and it was bad of him to let his thoughts wander. "Expressions. You've laid the map for me, now give me the atmosphere. Just how impatient have they become?"

When he turned back to the window, he mostly closed his eyes and focused on his companion's smooth voice. Given another life, the man might very well have had option to be a bard. There was irony in that, given their priest had had such a life. Tuning fully into what was being said, he ignored the chill breeze pressing through his silk attire. "Taegar had a pinched look around his eyes, redness, and looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days. He was tense, sitting up a lot straighter than normal, and he kept fidgeting, curling and uncurling his hand against the table. Marcus had a smile throughout the entire talk, leaning back in his chair with his eyes slightly narrowed, one heel caught in the rung of his chair and his arms crossed. You'll remember that I told you he didn't say anything. Hojo frowned. Constantly. I know he's normally not mister sunshine or anything, but that was kinda creepy-" When he cleared his throat, Zack seemed to start, skipping back into his explanation. "He glared at me a few times too, kept moving so I couldn't get a clear line of sight on him, and he didn't let me get any really good looks at his face. Jaenkester was twitchy. Every time someone talked to him he seemed to jump a little, and he was the one pushing for the attack. The others didn't exactly seem what I'd call enthusiastic or anything and-"

"Zack. Why must you ramble?" He moved away from the window, quiet dignity fully intact as he arched an eyebrow at the other slave. One with rank on him no less. He'd fallen so far in the world, though it wouldn't be a fall when his country was taken over for him to rule from this rather coveted place under their lord's regard. He forcibly pressed back chilled shivers, almost missed in his reverie, and moved quietly towards where there was a fire lit. He silently hoped that his lips weren't blue. He didn't abide fussing, and Zack was prone to it if he thought one of them was discomfited in some manner.

He saw Zack glance up and around from the corner of his eye, noting that he immediately understood when the door to their little world cracked open, a royal guard checking in on them during his rounds. "So, you sure you won't let me pierce your ear? I mean, I think that'd be a _really_ good look for you…"

When the door closed, he simply shook his head and closed his eyes to block out the annoyance, fingers resting against a temple. If only that hadn't been a perfectly serious question. "You forgot to keep track of the time again." Sighing softly, he shook his head. "No matter, we'll work on tone of voice and go back over the other details later." He heard the other man groan, ignored the fact he very likely had just had someone roll his eyes at him, and waited patiently for him to speak.

"Right then you uptight bastard. No cosmetic tips for you." The tone of voice went from amused to serious before he slipped into his descriptions again, never missing a vital detail to be shared. With his eyes closed and his attention focused, he need never set foot in a conference. This was just as clear as if he'd been present.


	3. Watchful King

He was observant. Any who held his rank and status needed to be, if only for the simple reason of keeping assassins from stabbing you in the back. In some ways, that fear had faded, while in others he'd found himself near paranoid over the very idea of relaxing and simply enjoying the comforts that he'd inherited when his father had died. He hadn't been a young man, but he hadn't been quite so old as to turn over the title of king.

There were still stories told in the city about the little girl who had been the last person he'd seen while alive. She'd opened her hands to show him what she held inside… and that was that. The fire hadn't reached the second story witnesses of the interaction, and from there, rumors and tall tales abounded. Less than three years later, a carriage 'accident' had killed his mother. She hadn't even quite reached forty at that point, and she'd been far too brilliant to die that kind of death.

He had no intentions of ending in the same fashion.

Of course, that meant that he took risks with his life, and the lives of others to ensure that those around him, that he could _relax_ near… weren't going to be the end of him. The first had been Zack. He'd had him long before his father had passed on, had, in fact, been a birthday present from that very man. When he'd turned sixteen, he was told he could have whatever one thing he wanted, and he'd chosen an untrained, rude, scruffy little slave boy with unusual eyes. His mother had been horribly appalled. Now though, now he was his Amethyst, his oldest gem, and he knew the man would never do him wrong.

Years after his mother had died he had acquired the pair, his Diamond and his Ruby, his prince and his warrior. They'd caused him a great deal of trouble at first, as the two had hated each other on sight. One was given as a treaty gift and the other was taken as a ransom. That event undercut the efforts that were being made to remove his Diamond as competitor for the Acadian throne. In all, he should have never had trust in them. He remembered, however, the way Rufus refused to return to his homelands as anything but monarch. He remembered him being fully aware of the fact that it was almost a certain death to return as he was, being born the third son had earned him no protection, and being free stood him no better, not in these lands. The people were still far too bitter at the bordering countries to forgive a noble among them, let alone royalty. So he remained, even when his time as a tool had officially passed. The other had never had a place to return to. He'd been a gesture of peace from a vicious people, and had been too proud but to devote his being to his task. If he returned to that country under any guise but the one he now wore, they would return him and beg forgiveness as to avoid a misunderstanding. It seemed that he, at least, had never misunderstood that. At times it took patience to ensure his personal importance was known, but Vincent wasn't unreasonable. He understood, and in that he was quite set in his ways. He'd always been a warrior for his people, and now, he would obey his king. At least he knew that there was honest affection there as well, and that softened any misgivings that at times seemed to spark.

Most recently had been his Sapphire. Younger than the others, magically talented, he'd been a gift from a slave he'd freed many years before. The man had been too intelligent to kill, too wild to sell, and too rough to be a gift, so he'd simply let him leave. It likely was one of the wiser choices he'd made for him. Cloud was a priest. He wasn't sure how he'd come to be with Cid when the tinkerer had presented him, but there was no doubting his talent if he simply touched the wards. Sometimes, if he concentrated, he could see the flicker of symbols over the walls in barely perceptible pulses of white light. It was exhausting, but there were times when one needed unhindered sleep, and that was far better than counting chocobo in the dark. His youngest could have killed him by now, had more than had opportunity, yet he hadn't.

His gems. He didn't give their real names to his enemies, and he wished that his advisers had never need know. He'd inherited most of them from his father, and they were visionless. Most, at least, for when they had vision, the plans they laid before him chilled him to the bone. They were no men he could trust, and was utterly certain that he would never dare risk letting his guard down among them. His father had told him, once when he was still a fairly small child, that the most unnoticeable detail was often what would tip the scale, and that a feather could break a nation.

He watched for those details, and he wasn't alone in his attention. Two sets of eyes at every meeting, and bitterness from the advisers due to the rarity of his attending tactical, even political, meetings without a pet at his side. It was always his longest standing, and most had long since learned to ignore his presence. Others, such as Hojo, were far too keen, far too aware of the secondary reason underlying the slave's presence. He was the one rallying the cry to be rid of them.

He would not be rid of them though. They were his. He knew what they did for him, how many times they'd kept his fate from following that of his parents. He knew, and he would not say for they were breaking more than a few laws. They were not to be involved in politics. They were not to be involved in war. They were involved in both, and he still trusted them with his very breath. His advisers were trying to shake that trust, to convince him of how it should not exist. But he, as well as his advisers, were aware of something terribly important.

He did not truly wish to be alone. He needed to have something to keep him from being a broken king, to keep him from missing something important and being killed, or worse, caught in a spell that would blind him to reality and leave him as a shell. His advisers, however, would be more than happy to have just that. And just as with his gems, his advisors knew he knew.


	4. Tactical Relations

It had been an uphill battle, and it was reasonable enough to say that she wasn't happy to be here. In fact, if they hadn't been the only un-allied bordering nation, she wouldn't have to deal with this. It wasn't her fault she was the oldest. In fact, she would have been more than happy to keep up her martial training and let her little sister do the _dubious_ honor of being presented for marriage.

If it hadn't been for her little sister's childish streak, dissuading her father might have worked far better than it had. Instead, she had the facts known about the Galethan King laid out for her in precise terms. The man was strange. The man was nearly thirty years old and already had silver hair. The man kept a male harem that she was clearly supposed to ignore. She had her pride, and apparently she was expected to squash it and do her duty as a princess.

Itching for clothes that weren't so elaborate, she instead smoothed down the gold and blue velvet skirt, silently thankful that the covering attire hid her nervous twitches. She didn't want to be here, but her father had only needed one far-too-innocent smile out of Yuffie before shooting down any last arguments she might have had, and now, she sat in the waiting room to meet her husband to be.

Turning over what she knew in her head, she wasn't sure what to think. The man was known for his ruthless tactics against his enemies, and even tighter strung control over his allies. He'd seen battle face to face and was revered by his troops. She hadn't ever heard any stories of kindness about the man, and there was some rumor that he was actually a weakling, and ruled with an iron fist so people wouldn't doubt him. On that same tact, it was said that his political success was largely luck and puppeteering. Between the contrary descriptions of her trainer and her brothers, she had come to expect a former military man with scars, a gut, and premature gray hair.

Instead, she could do nothing but stare as the man stepped into the room. He wore the greens and silvers of his court, of course, but the fact that his hair was honestly _silver_ was the first thing to really catch her attention. She'd honestly thought the word silver had been an exaggeration, but no, apparently that had been wrong. Her gaze dropped from his hair to take in the rest of him, skipping around his face. She'd heard rumors that he wouldn't even see foreign ladies for prospective bride status, and that he'd declined royal balls, so that meant there had to be _some_ obvious flaw. No gut, possibly even muscles, though the constantly shifting material made it nearly impossible to tell.

Finally, she dragged her eyes upwards, bracing herself for some disfiguring scar, or for him to just plain be ugly. Who else needed harem slaves but the ugly after all? Green eyes, cat-like and strange, that she'd been told about… but there were no scars, and he certainly wasn't ugly. She was out of her league.

"Princess Lockhart." When he took her hand and laid a kiss on the back of the glove, she was frozen. She was expected to marry this man? Was he abusive and that was what was wrong with him? His voice wasn't grating, then again, he didn't look like the type to have a grating voice, and was that really such a bad thing…?

"Sire." Her voice was a squeak, and she quickly cleared her throat when he arched an eyebrow, straightening and taking a step back from her. She was going to hurt Reeve for not warning her about this. At least she wouldn't look as stupid in front of her father when she got herself sent home. Getting to her feet, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before trying again. "Sire, I have no wish to marry you."

"I know. I don't really want to marry you either."

She'd been all set to lay out her arguments, but that threw her, and her mouth, already open to argue further, to snap shut as she gave him a stare. Sure, she wasn't interested, but he was supposed to be! She might not have been the prettiest woman out there, but she knew she wasn't anything to scoff at. He was the man here, he wasn't supposed to just not want to marry her! He was supposed to make her work for it! Offended, she drew herself up. "What? Why not?"

He actually had the gall to _smile_ at her. After an insult like that? The temptation to slap him was strong, but she squashed it with all her considerable dignity. "Because I have no interest in the political liability you represent princess."

She felt herself bristling, the true aim of her argument lost in the fact that he just insulted her _again_. She wasn't her sister! "I am not a political liability."

"No?"

"No."

"Are you willing to prove that?"

Was he challenging her abilities? He was! Straightening up further, she glared at him. "Of course, Sire."

He studied her for a long moment, then nodded, stepping back with a slight bow. "Very well princess." Turning away, he gestured to a blond woman near the door. "Lady Elena, please escort the princess to her rooms until the ceremony."

It wasn't until they were halfway down the hall that Tifa realized what she had just done, and she could have slapped herself. Hard.

She'd wait to do that until she was alone.


	5. Ruby

There is duty, honor, love, hate, vengeance, justice, trust, deceit, abuse, discipline, subservience, and dominance. There are more, so many more that the list would be never ending if one tried to spell out every emotion and its compliment. Not the antithesis, because no emotion is honestly opposite of another. No, it's always a compliment, a tableau that it is placed against that the other can be better understood. This does not mean that they are the same, or in the same manner. It does not mean that you cannot know one without the other.

You can. You can know hate without love, abuse without discipline, deceit without trust. You can also know nothing but obedience, never praised, never valued as a person, but for your potential and abilities. You can be not a man but a thing, a thing for war, a thing for peace, but still just a thing. When he'd first gotten here he'd been faced with the son of his enemy. He'd been told he was not to do as he'd been prior trained to.

He had to change his objectives, and he hadn't cared for that. He'd still done as told. The other, however, had never been a thing. He'd been a person, refused to be a pawn, and being a slave seemed to not have phased that self-awareness. They'd only come to blows over these difficulties once, and once alone was more than enough for them to learn never to do it again. Zack had stepped in the way and been struck.

Their lord had taken this news very elegantly considering the circumstances. By all rights he could have called break in treaty, had him executed alongside the enemy he'd never met before here but who loathed him on sight. Instead he'd healed his most prized slave and gestured them to stay in place as he escorted the youth from the room.

He wasn't a cruel man, but the punishment laid out with his return made it clear he was creative. They were locked in a room, bound to opposing walls, and though they had enough room to move, lay down crouch or sit, there wasn't the length to stand, because that might have given them room to reach each other. It was clear they weren't wanted dead, nor to fight further. They were left there for three weeks. In that time, the only ones that they got to speak to were each other and their Lord, as the servants would go about their business in each pass of the day, checking the bindings, grooming, feeding, and taking away things that shouldn't be there. For all purposes, they were no more than objects to the staff, there to be taken care of, but otherwise going unseen.

It was during that time when it came clear why Rufus hated him as he did. He'd killed the only one of his brothers who wasn't mad, the one who was honest. That brother was also the one that king had sent to battle after battle. It had only been a matter of time.

He had felt no need to apologize for doing his duty, and Rufus hadn't been pleased to hear it at the time. War was war, duty was duty, and loyalty would not be swayed out of compassion. It was something that Rufus had come to appreciate about him since then. That foundation had saved their king more than once. It had also saved them. He could have let their king be killed in his rest, he could have let the other, then two, slaves be murdered in cold blood. He'd turned away those chances for freedom.

He didn't want it. He'd done nothing to deserve having his life under his own hands. He'd killed, destroyed, ruined homes, and he knew there were things he'd done that he shouldn't stop regretting. And yet even that wasn't it.

His musings were broken into, fingers running over the golden dragon armlet that was twined from wrist to elbow over his skin, a ruby centered on the dragon's back. The fingers were those of his king, who was watching him with quiet, unusual green eyes, he replayed the last few moments in his head. He'd been asked a question.

"Vincent?"

Looking over the letter from the Outlands, he murmured a soft reply and returned it to his Lord's hands. That earned him a barely perceptible smile and a nod before he rested his fingers at the emerald clipped belt that rested over the black silk and leather of his clothing and turned to write a returned missive with his other hand.

He wasn't going to betray his liege. Even if he hadn't been coin of a treaty, he simply refused betray family now that it was within his touch. There was no need to inform the king of a bastard sibling when he might already know. Such news would change nothing.

He'd asked.


	6. Sapphire

"Sire, I've resettled the protections. May I have a reward?" He kept his head bowed as he asked, emerald drop earrings resting against his jaw. There had been a point when he would not dare ask such a question. The temple had been strict. You were not rewarded for doing your duty. You did not seek to change your duties before you were told you were capable. You did not pick favorites, and you most certainly never touched politics.

You also didn't run away to do everything they told you not to, and he'd done just that. It was a choice he'd only regretted once or twice, but never in the time he'd lived here. "What sort of reward do you want?" The voice, always without inflection when formal, did not cause him to lift his head, though he did spread his hands against the dark blue silk of his pants.

"Time." It was a murmur, and he adjusted his position just the slightest bit more, studying the pair of sapphire and silver anklets he was wearing. Ever aware of lurking eyes and ears of servants, he was not going to overstep his place where it could be seen. "Your majesty has been spending a good deal of time on plans of recent, and I was hopeful that perhaps…?"

He tilted his head just enough to see through his blond spikes where they fell forward, watching as the king sent people away with conservative, almost absent seeming motions. The servants clearly knew them for what they were, and departed, closing the door near silently behind them. "Are you the only one that's been feeling displaced recently?"

He didn't move until he caught the beckoning gesture, lifting his head and moving over with an easy stride. "You've been very busy recently. We know that."

He didn't protest when the man nudged him to kneel to his left, and he didn't feel the sting of irony that at one point such a position was only for prayer. That had faded a few years ago, mere months after he'd gotten accustomed to this court. "She can't steal my affections from the four of you, you realize that don't you?"

Closing his eyes when the pale fingers brushed along his cheek, he sighed softly. "We all knew you would need to marry eventually."

"Cloud. I want an answer."

"Yes, I do, but that doesn't mean that you're going to spend as much time with us. Unlike Zack, the rest of us…"

He opened his eyes when the king tipped up his chin. "Unlike Zack, the rest of you have complete lives you left behind for this one. Shouldn't it be my place to worry that my slaves will long to return to their original lives given any neglect from me?"

Drawing a sharp breath, he shook his head, a hand raising and curving around the man's wrist before he even registered that he was moving. "I wouldn't go back there. I don't want to go back there. I hated that life." His fingers were caught before he could jerk away from his trespass, so he held still, watching.

"Nobody would believe me if they thought you were here willingly. They think you were stolen from your goddess. I don't dissuade them, because who wants to battle someone who can take the very faces of the gods for themselves?" The words were warmer, but not by much.

"I was never that high. I was always told I didn't have the ability to be an avatar, let alone lead rights. I've told you that before." Deferential tone for argumentative words, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last time he did it. It certainly wasn't the first.

"And they were wrong. Even still, you _are_ a priest. Both you and I know this. The court knows this. They simply don't know the details, and are fooled into the illusion that they wish to see." Sighing softly, he had to concede the point. Illusions were a rather large portion of temple life, and he'd simply been the one who couldn't tell the difference between them and reality.

"Will I get my reward?" Sometimes it was a bad idea to remind and push, and those times got him a no. Other times, it would never come to be if he didn't pursue the answer. The king was simply too hard to keep track of to stick with one or the other, so he felt it better to try than not.

"Yes, you will get your reward."

"When?"

There was a moment of silence, then the king ran his fingers up his cheek and just under his lower lashes. The action should have been threatening, yet it wasn't. He knew the king would give him nothing he didn't deserve. "Tonight. I'll be sure to come see you before I retire."

"May I sleep with you after?"

"Isn't that more than one reward Cloud? You're getting very bold of late." There was a moment of pause, one in which he dared say nothing, then a tiny smile flit over the king's face. "You may stay the night with me, so long as you deal with the others before."

He knew there'd be a catch, but as they went, that really wasn't a bad one at all. "I can do that."

"Then I'll see you tonight, won't I?"

"Yes." He rested his cheek on the man's thigh as servants started to filter back in, and it wasn't long before Zack made his way over to sit on the right side of the king's feet, the older slave just flashing him a small grin before settling into his place. It was going to be a long day. "Yes you will."


	7. Adviser

The girl was supposed to help the situation, not make it worse. Frowning, he snapped his book shut and dropped it on his desk, giving up on his reading for the time being as he considered the situation. He had already known that Grimiore's boy wasn't one to be swayed by feminine wiles. They'd tried that before he'd started adding political alliances to that harem of his, and he'd either brushed them off or ignored them entirely.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd even had a girl or two in that little clutch of his, but no, the man couldn't even come up with something sufficient to breed with. After all, it wasn't unknown for a king to take a bastard child and make it an official heir if he never married. But could the boy be relied upon to manage his own affairs? No. Instead he'd actually developed a system for gauging his slaves and didn't even try to keep some of the more promising ones around.

The man just didn't understand that slaves were things, and the mindset was more than slightly annoying. True, those things were rather intelligent, like a hunting beast or a riding bird could be, but that did not make them something that the king of a country should listen to. You did not take advice on war from a chocobo. Likewise, while one should value the object that a slave was, by no means should it be the slave's choice to come and go as they please, request favors, or anything else of the kind.

At this point he was sorely regretting not having taken the chance in the wake of the prior king's death to deal with the head slave while he was still a small child. If nothing else, there had been the chance to break the child's spirit, and that might have led to him being discarded by now. That chance had been foiled while Lucretia had attempted to get rid of his contract.

They really had underestimated his magical studies at that point, and now the family simply _couldn't_ be rid of him, though they could try. They couldn't kill him themselves, and he was attentive to assassination attempts on his person. He honestly couldn't say they bothered him. It just proved that the boy wasn't a complete fool and was aware of a way to use some of his resources. Unfortunately, it seemed he only knew how to appropriately use a few.

The advisers, at least, agreed with him on this matter. They did not like the freedoms that the king was giving his prized pets. It might not have come to their attention at all had he not overturned the ban on slaves wielding weaponry, and if nothing else good came of that event, at least now they were aware. It had been chaos at first, and it was no good trying to reinstate it, because many had taken the change and run with it, turning slaves to guards, sword showmen, and a few other things they had previously been banned from due to the law. It would have caused more trouble than it was worth to put it back in place when it had been so quickly adopted by the upper ranks. At least he'd kept firearms out of the bargain, meaning that the king's prized little warrior wasn't nearly as worthwhile as he might have been without the prohibition.

That was one refreshing instance in a slew of far too many failures. The little spy was still attending meetings, though at least the boy hadn't been able to dispute them to bring any other. After all, the oldest of the slew had always been there, he would tell no enemies, but what of the slaves that had formerly _been_ enemies? They weren't to be trusted, and he made sure that the other advisers backed and realized the extreme error in the current arrangements.

It didn't seem to be working quite as he anticipated though, but that wasn't a real worry. He was here to ensure that plans stayed on the track they should be on, whether the king cared for the idea or not. He was just the king, and a king should not overturn the plans carefully laid by his predecessors simply because he did not agree with them. That was not the way things worked.

Thus he arrived back at the topic that had initially made him set aside the book. How would he manage to get the princess to do her job? She was supposed to use that overzealous excess of pride that she had and demand the king be rid of his pets to be solely devoted to her when it came time for their nuptials. Instead it appeared that she was taking pains to form a friendship with the man's pets. This, of course, only made him more displeased, so he took the time and careful effort to make sure that all of the available tutors and trainers of her preferred, not to mention far too physical, activities were well distracted to other locations.

It wasn't so difficult considering that war was on the horizon if but one of those alliances of the king's were to be broken. Kill the warrior, and Cemere would cry broken treaty. Kill the little prince and Acadia would be in an uproar. It didn't matter if either was doomed for death before coming into the tender care of their nation, it would merely be the fact that that token had been smashed liberally all over the wall. War would bring about innovation, and the king was trying very hard to stay in his way.

If he managed to push through his ideal however… perhaps he'd yet be able to test just what exactly it was that fueled a priest. He always had wondered how they worked, and he hadn't been able to learn. War would give him plenty of opportunities, he was certain, because what kind of king wouldn't fight with his men?

Certainly not one worth following.

* * *

Hello! This is the first author's note for you guys, and I have to give special thanks to sinfulseraph and nanaG for reviewing and letting me know that someone out there was, indeed, reading this story. I'm glad you guys like it and I hope others decide to give me their thoughts too. - Skeren


	8. Reasoning

"Come on, please? You know mine, can't you tell me yours?" She paused outside the door as she heard the princess's exuberant and for once almost happy sounding question. She could wait a few minutes before breaking into the conversation if the girl was letting go of her discontent for a while.

"No. It's really not something I can give." They were deeper tones, and it only took her a few seconds to realize the amused voice belonged to Sapphire. He could laugh? She'd never seen it. Cracking open the door, just a bit, she peeked in so she could watch the pair.

She was just in time to see the princess prop her hands on her hips, and repressed a sigh at how underdressed she was. That half skirt really didn't count for anything, though she couldn't argue the practicality. "You're not _giving_ it to me. You're just… letting me know. It's not like I'd have a chance to use it. C'mon, just a little hint?"

The dark clad slave took a step back when the princess leaned in towards him in her earnestness, and when he shook his head, she couldn't tell his expression. "I'm sorry m'lady, but I only answer to the king."

And those quiet words, added to whatever his expression must have been, stole the smile right off the princess's face. She'd need to step in soon. "I'm going to marry that man you know. This is the least you can do to make this whole mess easier. Besides, I'll know then won't I? I won't tell. It's just a little detail."

Her hand was on the door to push it in, the silence starting to draw out a bit too long for her tastes, when the man spoke again. "Princess… Have you ever had a slave?"

The reply was nearly a squawk, and she wondered how the girl could reach that shade of red so quickly. "Of course not!"

He shook his head again, and she was almost certain that halfway tilt was him looking at where she stood behind the door. He didn't hold it long enough for her to be sure. His answer was almost too low for her to catch though. "Then please, stop. Just because we're his slaves because we want to be doesn't make us any less of a slave. It just means we're content slaves. Go out there, look at the way some people treat their slaves, then come back here. If you can say that doing this one thing to please the king is still just a little detail, then I might tell you. If you can't, then stop asking about things that the king doesn't want you to know."

She had to move quickly away from the door when he turned and swept through it, head tilted down, but she caught a glimmer of some emotion as he moved past her. He gave her a nod to show that he'd noticed her before slipping around the corner towards the rooms that were set aside for the royal slaves. Sighing, she shook her head and moved in the direction he'd come from, realizing that there was silence within.

"M'lady? Princess?"

Dark eyes flicked to her as she drew near and she reached out, making sure the woman didn't lose her footing as she just seemed to just sag in place. "It wasn't really that big of a deal, was it?"

She hesitated, glancing towards the still open door and back again. "Princess, may I speak freely?"

Well, an annoyed look was better than the confusion at least, but the woman nodded anyway. "Of course Elena, that's why I asked."

"Very well. Yes, it was. The king gave them the names you have now, for his safety and theirs." She shook her head when the black haired female opened her mouth to speak. "But it's not just that. He could have chosen not to name them at all. The king could have been one of those men who treats his slaves as faceless toys. Slaves only have as many rights as their masters give them. The king has fought very hard to give his slaves the freedoms they have, and I've seen some of the looks the advisers give him for it. Those men know what he deals with on their behalf and you asked Sapphire to disrespect that. Do you see why he got upset when you pushed like you did?"

The dark eyed woman looked prepared to throw a fit by the time she was finished speaking. It took her a few tries before she managed to get past a highly frustrated sound in reply. "It's just a name! The servants never made such a big deal out of their names!"

She shook her head, short blond hair falling across her eyes. "But he's not a servant. He's a slave."

The princess looked like she was going to argue further before she snapped her mouth shut with an audible click, eyes flashing with frustration that she had nothing to say. "Elena, sometimes I hate you."

Stepping back and giving a curtsy, she carefully refrained from smiling. The princess really was one of the most interesting people she'd ever gotten to guard. "I'm aware of that princess."

"I mean it too."

"You're being asked after, if you would come with me, we'll get you presentable for proper company." She turned slightly as she came back to her feet, waiting for the princess to start moving in her direction so that she could follow.

"I really, really mean it."

"Yes, princess, I know."


	9. Priestess

She was a priestess, the step below being an avatar, and she had been one of those most unhappy when Cloud hadn't come down to his training one morning. He'd always been impatient, trying to move further ahead before he was ready, but she'd kept her peace and hadn't been among those that had chastised him for his misbehavior. She was only a bit older than he was, but women always had been favored with their brand of power, and while there were, indeed, powerful priests, they were never a favored chosen.

At least, that had been the theory.

The temple had been in an uproar for days. Minor fluctuations of power that had been noted and used were gone, but so was a bulk of the presence that had filled the buildings as well. It had been more than a bit of a shock when a few unnoticed wards started flaring to life before dying out entirely. Study of the rune combinations used had been done, and it hadn't taken long to realize that the errant priest had laid his own protections.

It was only made more evident that he needed to be returned in that he'd been able to do such a process undetected. While loathe to admit it, many of the priests and priestesses were no longer able to touch the deities of their temples in anything more than the barest of superficial contacts. It was no human fault, simply the way the gods moved, leaving power for few, and the natural talents of many to cover the gap until the gods and goddesses returned to their followers. While the man had never been good at the illusions or healing with plants, he hadn't been without talent.

This meant that someone needed to find him, and she was sent to look, to confirm the suspicions of the others that he had been hiding his real potential from them. That had been a few years before, and while she kept in touch and sent prospective talents back to her native temple, it seemed for a time that Cloud had completely vanished.

Then, there had been a murmur in the wind, the plants turning more alive, and she followed the path to the castle at the heart of the capital city. Hooded and garbed in her temple attire, she could not be turned away at the gates and was permitted to pass. Even mages feared the gods, and while she might have seemed a delicate woman, none would honestly dare try to anger them. It was never a clear thing who represented the face of the god or goddess of any given church. The avatar was never announced, and it was safer that way for all concerned.

This, then, was how she found herself in the room for petition, the king entering from a side door in his green finery with a dark haired harem slave at his heels. When he settled, he took her measure before he spoke, and while she did not bow, she had not been expected to. "What brings a priestess to my home?"

"I've been on a journey, looking for someone, and I believe he is to be found here, if I was merely given leave to look." She peeked from under the deep colored cowl, green meeting green boldly. "I would not need your hospitality long."

"And what temple do I risk angering in refusal? By whose hand would wrath be dealt?" He didn't break the gaze, and it was a credit to him, though she hadn't expected signs of magic on him. Few kings had any true power.

She wasn't unaware of the violet eyes watching her either, no matter how the man might seem distracted by his master. "Aeris Gainsborough, left path priestess of the temple of Freya in Nibelheim."

"Left path?" He seemed to get the slightest bit more alert, and she felt she was being better scrutinized, though he didn't break eye contact to do so. There had been many times that her introduction had gotten such a reaction, so she wasn't stunned that the king was giving her a due. "They sent a healer on a quest?"

She nodded, unable to help the small smile that flit over her lips at the faint tone of startlement she'd earned. No, healers rarely did travel. "We lost one of our right path priests, and they felt it wisest that I be the one to search for him as I knew him better than most."

"Is there a name you can give me for the warrior at the end of your quest?" He knew something. She could see the way he was shutting away his reactions after that first, but she couldn't quite pin down what they meant. He seemed to have warding against her empathic touch.

"Cloud Strife. He's been gone for a few years now, and I believe him to have come to a rest somewhere in your city." The man moved, he had been for a while now, petting the slave at his feet's hair while they'd been talking, but the action was distinct in that it got the man a nod before the dark form left the room.

"What shall you do if you find him and he doesn't wish to return with you, or he has given up his right to do so?"

She stared into shuttered eyes for a long moment, then drew a deep breath and decided that there was no way the man could harm her if she spoke in honesty. "I would stay with him. I am unwelcome by my temple if I return alone." She tipped her head so that the edge of her cloak hid her face.

There was silence for a few long moments, only the closing of a heavy door and light footsteps breaking through. "Then, lady priestess, I must ask how you intend to stay."

She lifted her eyes back to the man with the statement, gaze flitting quickly across those near the throne as she felt her heart sink. To one side of the silver king was the first slave, one who she had no name for. To the other was Cloud, dressed much the same.


	10. Pacing

He leaned over her bed, his hair a bright splash of light in the darkness and his blue eyes watched her with quiet intensity as a faint frown lingered at the corners of his mouth. It was clear he didn't think she should be there. It was also clear he had no intention of telling her so.

It was one room over, not quite attached to the harem suite and reserved for guests that the King had deemed important. Technically, they were allowed to be there. Officially, one of them had been asked for. Privately, the woman very likely knew that she wasn't going to be alone even though she hadn't invited, nor even spoken to, the blond that was hovering over her bed with a quietly bothered air.

Sighing out a soft breath, Amethyst ran a last look over the scene and slipped back from the doorway he was leaning on. He didn't need to worry about Sapphire any since the woman wasn't going to touch him. They seemed almost like siblings and that was enough to ease his qualms and allow him to sneak back across the hall to the rooms he shared with the other gems. Almost, but really not quite, and he curtailed his thoughts before anxiety could send him to check again.

He had to be up early in the morning to attend to the king, and he couldn't be exhausted because he'd stayed up the whole night fretting over something that wasn't his worry in the first place. He didn't have any say in the possible outcomes that would happen because the priestess was in his King's home. He would have no say in if his fellow gem would be released into her care.

It wasn't anything he'd ever had to be worried about before and he really, really, didn't like it.

He hesitated near his bed before turning around to head back for the room he'd just left. A pillow smacked him in the face as soon as he completed the action and a grumpy voice came from the general direction the throw had originated in. "Stay or go already, your pacing is starting to get on my nerves."

"I am not pacing! I'm just… checking on the king's interests." He pelted the pillow back at the remaining blond, following it over to lean on the man's nest of bedding.

"No, you are fussing and pacing. He wouldn't let her steal him in the dead of the night, not to mention that you've checked six times already, just where do you expect them to _go_?" There was a brief pause. "Get off my bed."

In direct contradiction to what he'd been told, he straddled the gray-eyed man, using him a perch as he lowered his voice so as not to bother the one person still asleep in the room. "Look, I'm allowed to worry a little, this isn't exactly a familiar situation for me. So just be quiet about it, alright Di?"

"No. You're still keeping me up." He frowned, prodding rudely at the chest of the darker slave and seemed less than shocked when it did absolutely nothing. "I believe I told you to get off my bed."

A little glint of mischievous intent flickered in the older slave's eyes, and he draped himself quite comfortably on the younger one. "But I don't want to."

"Amethyst, I'm trying to sleep." This time the prodding transformed into a full-fledged shove, which only served to give the taller gem a chance to roll to the side and under the blankets before he could be stopped.

"So am I."

"You're annoying."

"Put up with me and I'll stay put until the king comes to get me."

"…Really now?"

"Yeah. Deal?" Smirking as he saw the hint of interest that broke through the other man's glare, he snuggled his cheek rather comfortably on a pale shoulder.

One aborted action of his pillow to roll onto his side was the initial answer, one he thought had been wholly unnecessary, and then the man sighed sharply a moment later, closing his eyes rather imperiously instead. "Go to sleep before I kick you."

Dark hair fell into his eyes as he lifted his head to look at the pale face properly, tone turning serious. "Thanks Di, not a night I think I wanted to sleep alone for."

"That's all very nice, but I really don't care. Sleep." Even though the words had been sharp, the blond had wrapped his arms around him, pressing his cheek back down against his chest in a gesture that was half impatient, half gentle.

"Yeah, yeah. Going." This time he allowed himself to close his eyes and try to relax.

Sapphire would still be there in the morning.


	11. Reprieve

**Reprieve**

It was times like these that the problems in the court came to a hold for a little while. Amethyst had finally stopped fretting, well distracted by the king, and the king wasn't concerned over his frustrations with the board of advisers. They, his Gems, were the only ones that could do that for the man, and he really saw no shame in the fact he was one of them.

When he'd still been royalty officially, he certainly hadn't had anyone that he could trust that far. He'd have been more concerned that the person or slave he was taking to bed was going to knife him on someone else's orders. Often, that someone else would have been a sibling of his, which made the prospect even more urgently in need to be avoided.

This king though, knew that they would not do that to him. How he weeded out those who would from those who would not he wasn't quite sure of. It might have had something to do with the glow of the man's eyes, but it was impossible to be certain since he'd never honestly seen him do magic.

He felt a faint tug on his hair, and turning his head to find the cause brought him eye to eye with Sapphire, who gave him a small smile. "You're thinking too hard right now Diamond."

The murmur was loud enough to catch, and he opened his mouth to reply before getting distracted by a sudden bout of laughter from off in the pillows. "That tickles!"

The king's quiet, not often heard laugh followed, and he leaned over the dark-haired slave that he tended to spend most of his time with. They'd quickly learned not to be jealous about it. "Yes, I know it does. Vincent?"

Leaning over, Ruby caught and pinned the flailing and giggling mess that Amethyst had sunk into. "Has he ever kicked you doing that?"

"Once or twice." Both blonds moved over to where the other three were, drawn by the obvious shared amusement, and it quickly became clear that the king was tormenting the man with his hair. It wasn't exactly something a man would expect to see a king doing.

"Ack! Tag teaming. So, so not fair." Amethyst was laughing still, his gaze bouncing between Ruby and the king as the crimson eyed man showed a bit of rarely observed humor and shook his head, making his hair tickle on bare skin as well.

That only seemed to increase the flailing, so he took it upon himself to join in the fray, hands catching and pinning an ankle so that he could tickle the bottom of a foot. "Why didn't I ever realize he was so ticklish?"

The king apparently didn't mind, merely shooting the blond an amused look before turning back to his doings. His visits never were the same from one time to the next. "Because you have to be creative for it to show itself Rufus. Cloud, get the other limb?"

The priest did as asked, not taking any liberties with the opportunity. Then again, he still was the shyest of them about certain things. If he'd believed they'd be in trouble, he was certain the king's attention would have shifted well before now, but the signs of temple training still showed themselves glaringly. He never had liked the stupid things. They took all the interesting quirks right out of people.

Amethyst, meanwhile, was finally starting to calm down, even under the continuing assault, the little giggly laughs that escaped with his breaths subsiding into amused hums. The king switched tactics when he noticed, crouching over his naked slave, then leaned over to kiss Ruby.

He should have been expecting something like that from their king. He wouldn't neglect them. Just as they made sure that his mind was off of the stresses of day to day, he made sure to try and keep the four of them from feeling ignored. It didn't take long for the play to slide into foreplay, then into sex from there, one well pinned Amethyst staying caught on the bottom of the pile until the king returned his attention to him.

Best for last maybe? He doubted it. If he had his guess, he'd say that the king just liked to feel the man squirm. He'd done things like that himself when he still had rank, and even if the king didn't mean it that way… well, it certainly amused _him_ for Amethyst to squirm.

When the king wasn't distracting him that is.


	12. Mother

**Mother**

She was his mother. Really, if not for that he would never have come home, never spoken to her, and never _ever_ have given her his love. But she was his mother, and that meant that he loved her. No matter what kind of person she really was.

He had turned a blind eye to how she dealt with political matters. He was a bastard child, and as such, he technically shouldn't exist. Society didn't really have to acknowledge that he did, and while that made some things harder, it made other things easier. She'd had him to try and further her personal ambitions. A bastard son of a foreign nation may have a glaring sign painted on his spine, but the lack of any other children from that nation's king could have made her Queen.

Of course, then that king had gotten married and had a son, thus ruining her chances unless by some perchance the entire family was killed off. It was almost disturbing to hear the fact that that king, his father, was dead when it had happened. It had been more disconcerting to see that his mother was actually rather pleased to get the news.

He was Cemeran. Cemere was the country he was born to, and was the land where he had been formed and taught his art of killing in. It was where he became the demon of the battlefield. Junon was where he grew up, and the matter of Galetha should not have impacted him. His mother was a low ranking noble, even if her contacts were at times terrifying and vast. He would not reveal her because he was more loyal than that, and was a good son, but that never meant that he agreed with her methods. They both knew that, and she often used it against him.

Still, when there had been a shift in power from king to queen, he had been one of the first nobles in his country to hear about it. His mother's friend, a man named Hojo, had sent her a message to indicate what had happened, and he had been the courier from door to sitting room so that he could give her the missive. She usually didn't pass any letters along to him after she read them, for which he was grateful, but apparently she'd wanted him to be aware of the news.

He couldn't ever remember seeing her smile quite like that before that time, and he could honestly say that it unnerved him. It was like a reptile's grin, nothing warm about it at all, and it came more often after that day, usually on the heels of bad news, such as when the queen of Galetha had fallen years later.

He didn't like the idea that she'd come unhinged as he'd grown older. That in mind, he'd discounted it as a possibility entirely, picking apart his memories of her with studious care. He quickly found that her cold-blooded tendencies had always been there. The vicious, ruthless streak, the chill calculating looks, neither of them was new. Shrouded in a gentle touch and motherly love, at least so much as a woman like her was capable, they seemed to go down to her core. He had no idea how he'd grown to be such an honorable man with her as a role model, but he knew he was, in comparison to many.

When the Cemere military had shown an interest in his talents during a practice, his mother had encouraged him to follow the prompting. His quiet caution in picking at her motives had quickly become more, deeper, cynical. He'd been such a fool as a child, but he was more a fool later, because even though he could now see her for what she was, she was still his mother, and so she would remain. It wasn't exactly something that one could avoid.

In turn, when he'd been chosen as a gift for the king of Galetha, he hadn't been sure how to take the news. Some secrets were truly secret, and while most didn't know his parentage for a certainty, others suspected and were not wrong. He still had moments when he wondered if he was more a joke than a gift, but he knew some, who had been at the bargaining table that day, were still angry that he'd been taken in so graciously.

He could only guess they'd been careful in trying to pick someone they thought might be refused, thus giving excuse for the fighting that they dearly wished to continue. That was years ago now, and there was a sharply enforced peace across the four nations. At least, they would be the four nations as soon as the wedding was finally official. For years now it had been the three nations and Wutai, not enemies, but with a shakable alliance.

Thus was the role of the elder Princess, Tifa Lockhart Kirasagi, of Wutai. He met her once before, while he was officially seen as a warrior, and now he was going to watch her marry his king from the shadows as a harem slave. He couldn't begrudge her, the king needed a queen. He knew he never wanted to step up from the concealing shadow he'd lived his life in, and the best way to ensure that was to make sure that the current king had a child. He was no king in the making, whatever goal his mother may have had in birthing him, and he felt no guilt in thwarting her.

He simply had to keep an eye on those in attendance, because he knew she was invited. He didn't want her to put his king at risk. Much as he loved his mother, he trusted his king more.


	13. Jitters

**Jitters**

She wasn't terribly eager to carry out the events that the day was already putting pressure on her for. Ritual, purification, preparations, contracts, so many contracts that she nearly wanted to scream had led clear up until it was time to rest the night before. Politics was an annoying, unwelcome thing that dictated entirely too much in her life. It was dictating who she was going to marry, it had crippled her ability to make real friends, it had estranged her from her parents. And that was only a few things really.

Politics, in essence, were a major bane in her life.

Turning over the papers she'd had to sign the morning before in her mind, she sighed. While her and the King got along well, she wasn't sure how she felt about him. Sephiroth was an intelligent man, and they'd had a few intriguing discussions since she'd come to live here. He seemed to be much better at verbal sparring than she'd really believed he would be though, and she often lost anything that approached a debate between them, usually with her thinking herself the victor until she'd left his presence. That fact would have upset her more if she hadn't been aware it was her own fault for letting her temper get away with her. He was good at pricking it, steering her where he wanted her to go by using her own strong feelings against her.

She didn't want to get married. Even as she sat and felt the emerald beads being threaded into her hair with pale flowers for the wedding, she knew she didn't really want to be here, or do this, and she still made no move to leave. All that was left was the ceremony and they would be wed. Every other formal part of the marriage had already been dealt with, and she'd do nothing more than embarrass herself were she to leave now.

"Why do I need to do this?" It was a murmur, one that she hadn't intended to speak out loud, so she was startled to get a reply.

"Because you got that honor thing goin on Princess." The amused drawl was from the doorway, her redheaded guard leaning easily in the frame with an amused look on his face. "Not planning on gettin cold feet on my King are ya?"

Both annoyed to have been heard, yet also relieved to get an answer from someone less biased than her handmaiden, she studied the black and gold adorned man, the orange sash that completed his livery for this day having been exchanged for green. "Why shouldn't I? He wouldn't blame me for it."

"Nah, he wouldn't blame you, King's a good man, but he'd definitely react to it anyway. Broken contract and all that y'know." He shook his head, wandering into her room and glancing around. He'd come with her from Wutai, but he'd originally been from Galetha. He didn't look like he fit in here any better than he ever had in her home court though.

"If he didn't blame me, why would he do it?" She already knew the answer, and she could see he knew that, but if there was one thing she could count on him for, it was that he'd play along. He was a friend, one of the few she had, and even if he was a bit of a prankster that wasn't all he was.

"Because he's the _King_ Princess. I mean, c'mon, insult and all that. Being ditched by a gorgeous gal like you? Like his little troupe of warmongers'd let a chance like that pass." He stopped out of her immediate reach, blue eyes studying the fine embroidery on the silvery gown she was wearing. It was his version of respect to his betters, so she pretended it was as good as a bow, since they were in private.

"So even a good man has to keep up appearances?" She felt Elena move away to get the simple chain necklace she'd been given the evening before for the ceremony, and turned her head to meet the blue eyed gaze directly.

"Yeah, even a good man. Don't worry princess, he'll keep to himself if you want him to outside, well, y'know."

"I know." She let out a deep breath, her thoughts flitting over her soon to be husband's slaves. She didn't believe in having any of her own, but she could understand the practicality of the tradition for people with rank, even if she didn't always want to. "You should go."

"Course Princess." He backed off as the blond woman came back towards them. "I'll let your dad know you're almost ready to go."

She followed his jaunty steps with her eyes, then stared intently at herself in the mirror with a soft sigh. "Yeah. Almost."


End file.
